the beast’s belly boils. lust’s fire
burns holes in his loins. molten lava
flows from his mouth like a river:
welded into mellifluous chords
wielded like a samurai’s sword
intent on drawing blood.
garment adorned with captured prey
the Yoruba demon, lord of grey
clouds lined silver & gold-plated clay
dreams of conquering new curves & exploring
smooth skin, valleys & cavities. setting
to work, he launches his attacks, aiming
at my heart — willing to do anything.
listen, lust-filled fiend, I am out of your league
laying siege to a walled city sited on a hill holds intrigue
certainly, but it can only result in combat fatigue